The Sons of Skyrim
by Drakarn
Summary: Three heroes, each with a past seeming to hold no similarities with the other, find themselves on the chopping block as the end of the world looms over there heads. What is to become of them, no one knows.


Snow fell gently on the frozen ground as the sun started to make it's peak, though it would never show through the thick blanket of clouds that covered the sky. All was quiet except for the creaking of the wheels of carts and the sounds of horse's hooves making contact with cobblestone. It seemed fitting, actually, for the day that was ahead for the passengers of the carts. These passengers were all bound, facing each other as their hands were kept behind their backs. Most of these people were nords, a fair but strong people. Much like the terrain they were traveling through. Almost all of them wore the same uniform. There were only four that stood out. One, a man with brown hair who appeared to be nord as well, a gag was wrapped tightly around his mouth as his dark fur coat fell around his shoulders. The other two were also nords, though one appeared to be wearing a dark robe and a hood, though it was pulled back to where his face was showing as his piercing silver eyes surveyed the area. He was cleanly shaven and didn't appear to be worried about his predicament. The other nord lay sleeping in his spot, a large welt on his forehead. He seemed to wear poor clothing made of what could only be assumed was a burlap sack. The last individual was an imperial, a race of people who were smaller and not quite as strong as nords were, but relied mostly on their tongues to get them through trouble. This imperial, in particular, had pure white hair, though he didn't appear to be old at all, but in his early twenties. He wore a cocky smile on his face as he watched the driver of their cart, a man wearing plain leather armor and matching helm, drive the horses onwards. His name was Drahs, and he had come here merely out of a whim when he found himself ambushed and placed here along with all of these nords.

"Hey, you, you're finally awake." Came the voice of a nord directly in front of Drahs. The imperial knew who he was talking too, as he heard the young man waking up with a groan.

"Mornin' princess." Drahs chuckled, turning his head to face the now awakened nord.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" The man who had first spoken continued, largely ignoring Drahs. The imperial sighed, this was a problem that should be rectified soon, and he preferred it when people paid attention to him when he wanted them too at any rate. "Walked right into that imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

The young man looked to where the blonde nord was indicating, seeing a dirty and tattered man who appeared to be no better off than himself. "Damn you Stormcloaks." The thief spat. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy."

"We're still lazy." Drahs shrugged. "Just not nice…oh but don't mind me, carry on."

"If they hadn't been looking for you." The thief growled. "I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to hammerfell." He then looked to Drahs, deep worry in his eyes. "You there, you and me…we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The blonde nord commented, shaking his head.

"Shut up back there." The driver called back, obvious annoyance in his voice.

"Hah, looks like we upset our executioner." Drahs laughed, leaning back as he watched his breath turn to steam in the cold wind, his expression starting to show more and more boredom. He then looked to the gagged man. "What's wrong with him, huh?"

"Watch your tongue!" The blonde nord growled, suddenly getting angry at the imperial. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king."

Drahs scoffed, he had heard of Ulfric. Some called him a hero. Drahs called him a man making a desperate grab for power. Didn't matter anyways, he knew that since Ulfric was here there weren't many possible places for them to go to. Each of them suggested an untimely end.

"Ulfric?" The young nord gasped, now becoming fully aware of where they were. "The Jarl of Windhelm? Then, you're the leader of the rebellion."

"But if they captured you…" The horse thief blinked, coming to the slow realization of their situation. "Oh gods! Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going…but Sovngarde awaits." The blonde nord sighed, looking out to the wilderness.

Drahs shrugged, watching the oncoming fortress that greeted their view. He ignored the rest of the people he was with now, their idle chatter not serving his interest. What did catch his attention, however, was the old man wearing a fine set of armor. "General Tullius…" he whispered to himself, a wry grin coming to his face to reveal a slightly sharper set of canines than that of the normal human.

As the carts pulled through the streets of the old fortress, Drahs noticed that a number of people came to witness the event that was about to transpire. Few of them seemed to have regret etched on their faces, others joy and some, just pure suspicion. Yet, through it all and through all the commotion some of the prisoners were making Drahs felt something…off about what was going on. As if other forces were at work around this moment of his life.

He had been so focused on these minor details other than the ones around him that he didn't notice the carts stop. What brought him back to the real world were a few words uttered by the blonde nord with them. "End of the line." He said, an accepting tone seeming to appear in his voice. They all stood up as a couple of imperial soldiers stood at the end. One appeared to be wearing armor just under General Tullius' while the other had armor just above that of the common soldier. Drahs assumed it was an officer and a sergeant of some sort. He didn't particularly care. Soon his turn came up as the two called off names from a list. He stepped off of the cart and landed squarely on his feet. First Ralof, the blonde nord walked to the edge of a circle where a chopping block lay. Then Ulfric, the man in dark furs walked to the spot next to Ralof. Berrath, the young nord who was dressed in rags followed. Arraf, the one in the robes stepped calmly to the edge. When the horse thief's name was called, he burst out into a run. Drahs rolled his eyes as he watched.

The situation was handled quite nicely. A skilled archer took his aim and planted an arrow between the thief's shoulders. Thus ending the thief's life. "Wait…" The sergeant said, looking over his list then back at Drahs. "…Step forward."

Drahs shrugged, doing as he was told. He yawned from the boredom and looked the man directly in the eye. He seemed like a good sort, wanting to do the right thing. That explained why he was here. The woman officer who commanded him, however, seemed fierce, harsh, willing to kill at a moment's notice…Drahs' kind of woman.

"…Who are you?" The sergeant asked, looking Drahs up and down for a moment.

"Drahs DeCanath, from Cyrodiil." The imperial said bluntly.

"You're a long way from Imperial City, my friend." The sergeant sighed, turning to his superior. "Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."

Before she could respond, Drahs gave a sly wink to the woman, giving her a half-cocked smile. Her face contorted to a scowl, though Drahs noticed that there was a slight blush to her cheeks. "Forget the list, he goes to the block."

"By your orders, captain." The man sighed, turning to face the imperial again. "I'm sorry…we'll make sure your remains are returned to Cyrodiil."

"Eh, probably not. I don't care." Drahs shrugged as he was shoved over to the circle by a few burly guards. He didn't bother to resist. However, he groaned when he heard Tullius start to make some kind of rehearsed speech to try and give this day some special meaning. He tuned it out, for the most part, and listened to the sounds of the outside world. Suddenly, an odd noise came to his ears. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but he was certain he had heard it somewhere before. His uneasy feeling about today was given a little more strength now as he watched everyone look around, unsure of what to do. "Great…they can all hear it…" he muttered under his breath. "Looks like I'm not insane."

"What was that?" The sergeant asked, his eyes darting around the sky.

"It's nothing, carry on." Tullius said, a stern look on his face as he turned to face the captain.

"Yes, General Tullius." She said, giving a quick salute as he walked past. She turned to face a priestess who was standing next to the chopping block where a large and burly man stood, wielding a fierce looking axe in his hands. "Give them their last rites." The captain ordered.

The priestess nodded, raising her hands to the air as she started spouting out some memorized chant. Drahs groaned again, he was certainly getting tired of speeches. Yet, before he could tune it out, a red haired man wearing the blue colors of the Stormcloaks stepped forward. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with."

The imperial blinked for a moment as the red haired nord stepped forward, fearlessly, to the chopping block. Then he chuckled, shaking his head. "I like him." He muttered under his breath. "Shame he's going to be the first to be put down."

The one named Berrath looked in horror as the executioner raised his axe above his head and the brave nord who stepped forward laid his head own on the chopping block. "My ancestors are smiling down on me, imperials, can you say the same?" He called out just before the heavy axe slammed down onto his neck. A spray of blood came pooling out of the stump as the head fell down into a basket, the crimson liquid spreading all across the chopping block. Drahs looked at the blood and, perhaps not too secretly, licked his lips at the red substance.

"You imperial bastards!" One of the imprisoned Stormcloaks shouted.

"Hey…now that's just rude." Drahs muttered, though he truly didn't seem to care.

The crowd that had gathered began shouting things at the now decapitated corpse like, "Justice!" And, "Death to the Stormcloaks!"

"As fearless in death, as he was in life." Ralof said, a deep sigh of regret in his voice. Drahs had to admit, it was a shame to see such a brave soul on the ground with blood pouring out of a gaping wound while his head sat in a basket.

The captain kicked the body off of the chopping block, pointing a finger at Drahs. "Next, the renegade from Cyrodiil!"

"Well damn." Drahs sighed as he stepped forward. If he didn't he'd just be shot in the back anyways. "Don't give a man any time to plan or anything." He muttered as he kneeled down, the scent of the blood causing him to roll his eyes up for a second…until he was shoved entirely down onto the block. As he looked up at the burly headsman he gave a wry smile. "Hey, do me a favor big guy…watch the face. I still need it to attract the ladies."

The executioner grunted, lifting his axe over his head. Then, the noise came again. It sounded like a low and rumbling roar…and from what Drahs saw next, figured that it was. "What in oblivion is that!" One of the guards shouted.

Out of everyone, though, it was probably Drahs who saw it first. Originally he thought it to be a kind of bat like creature, but as it got closer he saw that it was large…very large. Bigger than a number of buildings that he had seen. It had skin as black as night and eyes as red as blood, and the stare, a stare so piercing that it could penetrate even the hardiest of men, and there weren't many men hardier than nords. The creature landed with a loud crash on top of a tower facing the block, a creature that was quickly identified as a dragon.

The dragon stared at Drahs for a moment, drawing its breath back as it released a burst of flame from its mouth. The fire crashed into the executioner, burning him alive as he screamed from the pain. The imperial, however, was much quicker to react, rolling just behind the chopping block to where enough of the flames would pass over him and keep him alive. Soon after, he hopped to his feet, sliding his bound hands under his legs in one quick leap to have them facing his front. He looked around, pandemonium started to break out as imperial soldiers starting firing arrows at the beast as it strafed areas of the keep and Stormcloak soldiers made a break for it. What made the situation worse, however, was the fact that now balls of fire started to fall from the sky and create craters in the ground.

It was in this chaos that Drahs saw the nord called Berrath and the nord in robes named Arreth. Both of whom were slammed to the ground by the force of a blast of fire that crashed before them. The imperial immediately saw that they were alive, but in a bad way. He looked around for a moment at the unfamiliar faces. "…Well I guess I need allies." He sighed, sprinting towards the two. He quickly grabbed them by their bindings, of which they were still bound behind their backs, and dragged them to their feet. "Come on, we have to move now!" He shouted, seeing a group of people running for cover in an abandoned tower.

The two followed him without much complaint, happy that someone was taking a stab at leadership here. When they made it to the tower Drahs slammed the door just as a burst of fire landed at the entrance. "Phew, made it." The imperial said with a sigh of relief.

"Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof called from within the tower.

"Aw damn…" Drahs sighed, spinning to see that all the survivors in the tower were Stormcloaks. Berrath seemed like he wanted to say something, but before he could, Drahs started dragging the two up the stairs. "Come one, we're leaving now."

As they climbed the stairs, much to the complaint of Berrath, though not so much Arreth, Drahs heard the flapping of wings as they reached the second level. He stopped his two new companions by fanning out his elbows to hit both of them in the chest. Suddenly, the Dragon's head burst through the wall, and with it, a burst of fire that killed several Stormcloaks that had taken up refuge there.

When the creature pulled its head back and flew off to kill a few imperials that were shooting its back, Drahs ran up to the hole in the wall and saw a building that wasn't too far away and had been burned enough to provide a decent escape path. "Ah…this will do nicely." He said, spinning around. "Alright you two…we're going to jump. Get a good head start."

"…What?" Berrath shouted, looking at the hole. "You can't be serious!"

"Just do it, we'll have no more luck in here." Arreth said calmly, looking back at the burnt corpses of the Stormcloaks.

"…Fine." The young nord sighed as Drahs started to back up a good distance, then sprinting to the hole and giving a great leap. He cleared the whole through the tower and went straight through the hole in the smaller house, rolling when he landed to absorb the impact.

Soon after, the two nords followed. They repeated what Drahs did, albeit not quite as skillfully as the imperial. "Alright you two." Drahs said, dragging them through the burning building before it collapsed. "We need to find someone that knows this fortress and have them guide us through it or we're dead."

"But who exactly would know this place?" Berrath asked, looking around as they got outside. Suddenly Drahs saw the sergeant from before barking orders and calling a boy to him, who just barely made it out of the dragon's fire.

"My guess," Drahs started, a smile appearing on his face. "That one."

"The imperial soldier?" Berrath growled, obviously not comfortable with taking help there.

"It's either that or die, kid." Arreth said, running forward with Drahs.

With a sigh, the young nord followed the two older men. The sergeant looked back to them and, with a nod, called out to them. "Alright, follow me prisoners if you want to stay alive!" With that he took off for a dead run with the three prisoners in pursuit.

As they ran through the keep the Dragon showed itself several times, causing hell wherever it went as a few imperial soldiers fought bravely to keep it back. It worked as a distraction but otherwise served no other purpose. Though, Drahs had to admit, that whenever the dragon would use its breath weapon it almost sounded like it was speaking a different language. When the four men made it to the largest building in the fortress there were a few Stormcloaks running for their lives, being lead by Ralof. "Ignore him and lets get going." Drahs growled as the sergeant glared at him.

"Ralof! You damn traitor!" The imperial shouted, ignoring Drahs.

"You're not stopping us! Not this time, Hadvar!" Ralof spat in disgust.

At this point, Drahs started pushing the sergeant forward. "Come on, no time to talk with pigs, run now!" He started shouting as balls of fire fell all around them.

"Fine, I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" Hadvar shouted as they were led to one of the doors. Berrath seemed to make a move towards Ralof to follow him, but Drahs spun around and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him with the others.

"You're coming with me kid." The white haired imperial said, ignoring any protests that Berrath would have had. As the four of them pushed the doors open, they went inside into a dark chamber, where the doors slammed behind them, and with it the muffled sounds of the dragon's chaos.


End file.
